


Emotions by Text

by sam80853



Series: Love Actually [1]
Category: Love Actually (2003), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam80853/pseuds/sam80853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what Sherlock would do if he were Max from "Love Actually".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotions by Text

Sherlock had done everything he could to make John and Mary’s wedding as perfect as humanly possible. He had written a violin sonata so they could dance their first dance together as husband and wife to music nobody had ever heard before. He had folded table napkins in the form of the Australian Opera house, no less. The reception was organized, the bridesmaids dresses - lilac - ordered, cake tasted; everything was taken care of. Nothing left to be done. And Sherlock was dying inside. A heart he hadn't even known he had -- well, obviously he had a heart, everybody did, pumping blood through their veins -- was breaking.

To be perfectly honest it had been broken the moment John had announced his engagement with Mary.

Mary.

Sherlock liked Mary. He really did. He just hated her. How could she? How could anybody, really?

John belonged to him. Always had.

‘Not anymore, dear brother,’ Mycroft’s annoying voice sounded in Sherlock’s head. ‘You’ve waited too long, cowardly.’

Sherlock huffed in indignance.

Sherlock had never been accused of being a coward, ever. A freak, yes. Reckless. Blind to the needs of others, their emotions. That was what John had been for.

John.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and run down the stairs.

~::~::~::~::~::~

The doorbell got John off the couch where Mary and he had been sitting watching tv. He was surprised to find Sherlock standing at his doorsteps.

Sherlock never came to their house.

“Wh…?” John was about to ask when Sherlock lifted his finger to his lips to silence him.

“Who is it?” Mary’s voice came from the living room and Sherlock reached for his mobile phone, texting.

John’s own mobile pinged, announcing an incoming message.

Sherlock looked at John expectantly until he finally reached for his phone, wondering what Sherlock was up to.

 _Tell her it’s Billy_ , John read.

“It’s Billy,” John repeated out loud so Mary was able to hear him.

Sherlock kept on texting while John’s phone kept on receiving.

_You are the bravest and kindest_  
 _and wisest human being I have_  
 _ever had the good fortune of_  
 _knowing_

_I am a ridiculous man_

Sherlock looked up briefly, making certain that John was still reading what he had to say. He did.

_redeemed only by the warmth_  
 _and constancy of your_  
 _friendship_

John’s head shot up, brow furrowed in confusion. Sherlock kept on texting, seemingly unaware of what was going on around him.

_I will never let you down_  
 _and I have a lifetime ahead_  
 _to prove it_

Sherlock stopped writing, and John stopped reading. Everything was quiet around them. John was unable to decipher what Sherlock was trying to tell him exactly. He looked up at his friend and everything suddenly became crystal clear.

Sherlock never visited John in his and Mary’s home. He never complained about the obviously dull tasks of organizing their wedding. Endless decisions that usually would have left Sherlock in a strop. He had been folding table napkins, for God’s sake….John gasped with realisation of what this really meant. He was shell-shocked. Did Sherlock really just say what John thought he said?

Sherlock smiled sadly and turned around, walking down the street. He had said and done what he had came here for. Now, there really was nothing more to be done.

He hadn’t walked far when Sherlock felt John’s hand on his shoulder, turning him around again. Facing each other neither man was able to speak. The consequences too high of what they were about to do.

“Yes,” John whispered, holding Sherlock’s face between his hands now. He kissed Sherlock.

Once.

And again.

And again.

 

The End


End file.
